Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Monday, May 30, 2011

I hope you're not tired of caning stories, because here's another disciplinary scene from B A Bradbury's Obliged to Bend. While James was away Elizabeth, his eldest ward, was in charge of the household. Upon his return:

I demanded a full report on everything that had occurred during my absence. Her answer was that nothing whatsoever had happened...

"That's reassuring," I said, "if perhaps a little dull. And tell me, how many punishments have you administered during the week?"

"As many as were necessary, Uncle," she replied. "None."

"None?" I echoed. "You must tell me the secret of your success, my dear. Getting staff to perform satisfactorily without flogging them is no easy matter. Although perhaps we'd better make sure everything is satisfactory before handing out any laurels, eh? Kindly accompany me on a tour of inspection.

The two of us went from room to room and as I suspected, the house was in a pitifully neglected state...

"I shall punish Alice and Rose for slovenly work, and I expect Mrs Hammond will make her displeasure with Willy equally plain."

She stiffened. "The servants are not to blame," she said, in a tone as icy as my own. "They were acting under my instructions. If you are determined to punish someone, then let it be me."

I laughed without humour. "Oh, rest assured, Elizabeth, you won't be spared..."

We returned to the study, and having made the decision to punish Alice and Rose, I advised Elizabeth she would remain and witness their castigation... I tugged on both bell-pulls to summon Alice and Rose simultaneously, and while we waited for them I went to the cupboard and took out the heavy cane...

The two maids duly arrived. They must have guessed what was in store for them, for they looked none too happy as they stood before me. Even Rose's customary impertinence was noticeable by its absence.

"I am most dissatisfied with the state of this house," I said to them. "It is clear to me you have both been slacking in my absence, and for that there is but one remedy." As I was speaking I noticed they both glanced at Elizabeth. If they were looking to her to save them, they were in for a disappointment.

I had them bring a chair apiece out to the middle of the room, place them side by side, and stand facing them. I then told them to bend over and place their hands on the seats, whereupon I raised their skirts and lowered their drawers in the usual manner. The two maids waited side by side, buttocks bared for whatever I chose to inflict on them. I contemplated this happy scene for a moment or two before announcing their fate.

"Two dozen each," I said, "and you have Miss Elizabeth to thank that is is so few. She took the blame upon herself, and pleaded for clemency on your behalf; otherwise it would have been four dozen."

...I flexed the cane and eyed the unfortunate girl closest to me, namely Rose. I drew back my arm and whipped the cane across her buttocks. She gave a shriek of pain and stood up straight, then shot me a fearful glance and quickly assumed the position once more, pulling her skirts hastily up about her waist.

Her reaction was perhaps understandable. In the past, with the principle of escalation in mind, I had invariably started out relatively modestly. Not so today, however. Every single stroke was to be a hard one.

"Yes indeed," I snapped. "You will remain bent over, unless you wish me to reconsider the two dozen."

The room was deadly silent, and Rose trembled as she awaited the onslaught. Alice, waiting her turn, trembled even more.

I swung the cane and struck Rose a second time, and then a few seconds later, a third. The force was no greater or less than the first, but she was expecting it now and was able to control her reaction. She still let out a most pitiful cry and jerked as though branded, but her grip on the chair seat remained firm, and she did not rise from her allotted position.

I paused after the third, and stepped forward to bring myself in line with Alice. She whimpered, and her legs shook dreadfully. A punishee of no small experience herself, she knew from Rose's reaction just how bad this would be.

I did not disappoint her, delivering the three strokes with gusto. Now Alice generally took her punishments in silence, a firm stroke drawing from her lips a gasp or faint hiss at most, but these strokes were considerably harder than normal and poor Alice wailed just as loudly as Rose before her, gripping the seat so hard her knuckles showed white.

With Alice's three delivered it was back to the older girl once more; and so it went, with me moving back and forth between the pair of them, delivering the cruel strokes three at a time.

I paused somewhat longer after the first dozen. They would be expecting a change of position, of course; but instead I had them remain there while I surveyed the damage. Their pale buttocks carried virtually identical marks, for I had been as even-handed as possible, favouring neither one nor the other. The weals were deep red, tinged with purple. The skin was not broken, but I judged it had been a close thing.

Friday, May 27, 2011

I donate blood on a regular basis. In some countries, donors are compensated for their blood, but in Canada we give it without any thought of recompense beyond the knowledge that we have saved a life. Oh, yes, the coffee and cookies afterward are good too.

So, I reclined in the big, soft easy chair while the phlebotomist searched for a likely vein. I waited for the inevitable stab of the needle, and wasn't disappointed. Still, it wasn't so bad.

"I hope that didn't hurt too much," she apologized as she loosened the tourniquet. I didn't bother to tell her that I was on comfortable terms with pain, so merely said I had hardly felt it.

"That's good," she replied. "I aim for pain-free."

I swear there was a pause between the last two syllables. Isn't that a lovely slogan for a spanker's business card or website?

Thursday, May 26, 2011

Hermione hails from the land of the maple leaf
Spanking is her passion and core belief
Her man Ron has a firm hand
Playing her bum like a one man band
Who after paddling her offers sweet "relief"

That Michael is a mind reader (or maybe it's because all Tops think alike). You see, Ron's special enjoyment of spanking me comes from the very unique music that each implement makes when it connects with my posterior. I often think of him as a one-man band as he produces a wide variety of sounds (excluding the ones that come from my mouth.) Here are some of them:

TIK TOK The broad flat wooden paddle. It sounds like a ping pong match with a distinct difference between impact on the left and right cheeks.

WHOP The leather belt. It is flexible so the strokes are farther apart and they hurt so good.

SPLITSPLAT The rubber spatula. It makes two slightly different sounds depending on whether the concave or the convex side connects with my bottom. Ron frequently demonstrates the difference, much to my dismay and his amusement.

Tappity tappity tap tap tappa tap The slender wooden shoehorn. Its sound is high-pitched, and Ron usually apples it quickly with an irregular rhythm; the rhythm of a tune only he can hear. Then it's several swats to one side, more or less the same number to the other, and a flurry of taps right in the middle that never fails to make me squeal. But that just adds to the musicality of our chastisement concerto.

THUPP The black leather strap. A major force to contend with.

PLOTT The long wooden spatula. It's quite a useful tool, but not in the kitchen. I cringe as I hear it coming through the air, then it lands.

SWOOSH Then there is the dressage whip. Ron loves to swish it back and forth very quickly near my head, and it whooshes in an ominous way. I cringe as I hear it, knowing how it will feel when it ultimately lands.

THWICK The sound of the dressage whip when it finally finds its way to my bottom.

To all of these auditory stimuli I respond in the same way: OW. I'll have to expand my vocabulary to match Ron's.

Monday, May 23, 2011

"In here Mr Williams," Lauren led the way into her flat, unnecessarily showing the caretaker where the bathroom was. She blushed and apologised. "I tend to forget you know this place better than me."

"Don't worry about it, Miss Lauren, you're being polite, more than I can say about some young women." He lifted the cistern lid and leaned over it, poking and prodding at the rusting mechanism inside. "Yes, needs a washer and perhaps a new arm on there, see what I've got downstairs." He stood up, eased his back and looked at her.

"Like I said, you're one of the polite ones. Some of them girls want their arses tanned, that they do! Excuse my French. Good leathering with a belt would do them a lot of good, and by God I'd give it to them if I could! Now you, Miss Lauren - " he made his way to the hall and put a hand on the door lock - "you act as if you've had that good tanning. Won't be long." He walked out, leaving Lauren a little shaky, and a little embarrassed, as if he had walked in and discovered her with a vibrator.

She went back to her lounge and sat down in the comfortable armchair, leaving the front door on the latch for Mr Williams to come back up and fix her overflowing cistern...

"Hi, Lauren?" Jude appeared in the doorway, smiling but looking puzzled, holding a dripping umbrella in one hand and something wrapped in paper in the other. "Did you expect me? Only the door was open."

"No, I didn't." Lauren got up and went over to give Jude a kiss and took the umbrella to put in the sink. "I'm waiting for Mr Williams, he's fixing the cistern for me." She hurried to the kitchen.

When she came back Jude handed her an African violet in bloom in a ceramic pot.

"I thought you'd like this."

"Oh, I do, it's lovely, thank you!" Lauren put it on the end of her cabinet, moved a clown ornament and stood that on the mantlepiece. Jude watched her...

"Here we are - hello Mr Brooks, good to see you again. Just got a small job to do here for Miss Lauren."

"So I see, keeping you busy already, Mr Williams."

"Not Miss Lauren, no, she don't ask for a thing, right polite sort of person she is."

"I should hope so! I keep her in line, you know, Mr Williams, give her a good hiding now and then."

"I wouldn't be surprised if you did either, Mr Brooks." It was said with a laugh and a look that said 'don't tell me such stories'. "Funny that, we was talking afore you came about girls what needed their arses tanned, excuse my French, I was saying to Miss Lauren here how she acted like she had it done to her! Won't be long, just get this done and then we'll get the water back on..."

...Lauren went back to the kitchen, glad she had been able to escape the embarrassing conversation. It hadn't been embarrassing, just awkward, just touching too many nerves in her body...

Later, when the caretaker had left, Jude held out his arm.

"Come, it's a long time since I did what I'm longing to do, give you a long, slow hand spanking."

The talk of people being punished with a belt had stirred Lauren's senses, and even though she had pushed the thought down, it had remained like a burr in her mind. Knowing that Jude was there for more than a flying visit had added to her feelings, she had known something was coming, known that the evening would end in a session of some kind or another...

It was difficult to repress the sensation of being ridiculous, lying across someone's knees, feeling large and awkward, feeling slightly ludicrous, but then the spanking started. From the first slap, hard and firm on a soft cheek, Lauren knew it was to be a long session, and resettled herself, hands on the floor, toes on the floor, eyes closed, feeling the emotions surge through her, pain/pleasure so deeply linked there was no telling them apart, no parting them.

Harder now, firmly covering all her skin, the slaps overlaying, the pain deepening... Outside the rain fell steadily, hissing against the windows, complementing, a background to the incessant slaps raining down on her exposed cheeks, no doubt flame red now under Jude's ministrations, sending more and more quiver of excitement and interest through her.

"OK, up you get," Lauren stood, clutching both cheeks as she always did, knowing no amount of massage would ease the pain, not wanting it to, wanting it to last.

Outside the rain fell, washing away the litter and dirt, chilling the air, sending everyone scurrying home for safety and warmth.

Lauren, safe and warm, considered herself the luckiest person in London.

Sixofthebest: Ron says to Hermione. "I've invited a Chinese ping pong expert over, and he tells me that he would love to show you some moves he makes, but he needs to pull your knickers down. Is that okay with you?"

Our Bottoms Burn: "I really don't care who wins I get the difference between their points in paddle pops".

Daisychain: Why are they wasting time hitting that silly little ball when I've got my bottom ready and waiting over here?

Bobbie-Jo: I'm going to get into this action. Whoever gets the highest score gets to spank the other two! (I just better win!)

My Mask: I am gonna say there is a bet going on between the two players.
The winner of the match gets to spank the blond in the picture over the ping pong table.

Red: They are practising their forehand and backhand swats. The person who loses then gets to spank the winner and me, or should it be the winner doing the spanking. Oh well, I guess it depends on whether they like to be spanked, or to do the spanking.

Hermione: "I get to play the winner. If I win, I get paddled, but if I lose, the winner paddles me."

Saturday, May 21, 2011

As a companion piece to my little story about paddles yesterday, I thought it might be fun to guess what the ping pong enthusiasts in this picture have on their minds. Might those paddles be put to good use once the game is over?

Complete the caption by leaving a comment or sending me an email. I will publish your interpretations in the next post.

Friday, May 20, 2011

I was shopping at Canadian Tire and passed by a clearance table. There were several ping pong paddles reduced for immediate sale. I picked one up, considered the possibilities, and added it to my shopping basket.

The paddle was labeled "beginner model" but I didn't see any intermediate or advanced ones so I can't say what the difference might be. I was intrigued by the different colour and texture of the rubber on each side, and wondered if I would feel a difference.

I only bought one paddle. We certainly weren't going to take up table tennis!

Later, Ron enjoyed the lovely loud sound it made when it connected with my bottom. But neither of us could discern any real difference between the black and the red side. I guess that's up to the experts.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

The movie McLintock! was on television earlier this week, and was included in the local newspaper's suggestions of the best shows to watch. Here's an abridged version of the synopsis:

The fact that this 1963 western was based on Shakespeare's Taming of the Shrew boggles the imagination. In this version, John Wayne is cast as a wealthy rancher...whose estranged wife suddenly reappears for a proper divorce and to obtain custody of their daughter. After wrangling with corrupt officials and shooting a few bad cowpokes, McLintock wades into the battle of the sexes -- culminating with both his wife and his daughter getting a good spanking.
Different times.

Different times indeed. Sadly, as much as I love the thought of watching a movie with three spankings in it, I can't get past the idea of using a coal shovel as a spanking implement. We passed on the movie.

Monday, May 16, 2011

Today we have another selection from B.A. Bradbury's novel, Obliged to Bend. The scene is a week of spanking at the country home of a group known as the Spankers Seven. James and Irene are present, and they are participating in a spanking competition on the final evening. There is a large cash prize for the winning spankee, and Irene needs to win the money to pay off her deceased husband's debts. But she has some stiff competition.

At ten o'clock sharp Percy took us to the ballroom, for it was there that the competition was to be held. Our slaves were in attendance, all looking somewhat anxious, I thought, with the notable exception of Belinda, who looked amused; or so I judged, as her lips - visible below her mask - were curved in a faint smile.

Her outfit caught my eye, as it was spectacular to say the least. She was dressed as a peacock... Her tight corset - blue like a peacock's breast - was embroidered with sequins in a feather pattern. Her stockings and shoes were pale yellow. Her mask was most ingeniously crafted to resemble a peacock's head, complete with glossy black beak and blue tufted crown feathers. Most astonishing of all, however, was her tail. It was a full peacock fan in all its magnificence, sweeping across her back and shoulders. It radiated from a point level with her buttocks, and at first I assumed it was attached to her corset, but then saw that the garment in question did not extend down far enough. I could only conclude that Belinda's tail was somehow stuck up her bottom...

The six of us seated ourselves, and I indicated to Irene that she should sit beside me. Donnett also sat, whereas the rest were made to stand behind their respective master' couches. I doubted Belinda could sit even if she wished to, not without doing herself a mischief with that tail.

The men drew lots to determine the running order. Another pair went first, then it was Belinda's turn.

Nigel was on next, and once the gong sounded the first thing he did was remove Belinda's tail. As I had suspected, the peacock fan was attached to a plug in her bottom, and her sigh of relief as it came out brought a smile to a good few faces, including my own.

"Thank God for that," she muttered. "Now I know what the Christmas turkey feels like."

With the tail out of the way Nigel proceeded to warm her bottom with a quirt. The short, braided leather whip was a particular favourite of his, and he soon had her dancing and yelping in a most entertaining fashion.

It is always a treat to watch Belinda take a whacking. She is very mobile, for one thing, and her titties bounce delightfully as she hops and skips about the floor. She is also extremely vocal. Belinda does not believe in suffering in silence, singing out in an uninhibited fashion, and prone to sharing her thoughts on the proceedings into the bargain.

Under normal circumstances, of course, most spankers would consider such antics undesirable, even unacceptable. I know that my grandfather would certainly have had something to say to Belinda about her behaviour. He always insisted that those under correction should remain as still and silent as possible. Twitching and jerking is inevitable, as are gasps and groans, but the penitent should not shift from her allotted position, and comments such as Belinda was apt to make simply would not be tolerated.

Though I share his views on this, with Belinda it is somewhat different. Whether out of affection for her or some other reason, behaviour that from others would have me in a rage, from Belinda just makes me smile.

The gong sounded, bringing Nigel's performance to a close. We all applauded, and Belinda made a curtsey to her appreciative audience.

"Thank you, kind sirs," she said, and masked though she was, I could see she was smiling.

The rest of the competition contains details that I consider too extreme to be recounted here, but I will let you in on a secret - Irene won.

Friday, May 13, 2011

We normally don't worry about wardrobe when it comes to spanking, but at recent brunch at My Bottom Smarts, the subject was what part wedgies played in spanking. My answer was none, but it got me thinking. Maybe I needed to expand our horizons.

The following Saturday, I presented myself at the appointed time as usual. The only difference was that I was wearing a pair of pink lace panties that barely covered my bottom.

"You're wearing panties." Ron doesn't miss a thing.

"Yes, I am," I giggled, wondering where this would lead.

"You don't usually wear them," Ron persisted. Wasn't he pleased? I wanted to let him decide what to do about them, but thought he needed a little help.

"Work around them," I suggested. Surely he'd eventually figure out that a wedgie would be a good idea.

And that's what he did, applying the paddle of his choice in the usual way. The thin lace didn't afford any protection, but I hoped Ron was enjoying the view.

After a bit of exertion he stopped.

"They're unraveling," he announced.

I suppose the lingerie wasn't up to such heavy abuse. I reached back and felt a thread or two on my thigh.

"So, pull them down." Too late, I realized that I had lost my chance to have a wedgie. Before I could correct myself, Ron lowered the lacy barrier and continued his paddling. I think I heard a sigh of relief as he saw the familiar landscape emerge.

Will I try to introduce some variety again? Definitely! But it probably won't be related to underwear.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Coco de Mer is an unusual double cocoanut that grows in the Seychelles islands. Cocoanuts that fell from the trees into the sea would be carried away by the currents. Sailors who saw them floating in the sea imagined that they resembled a woman's buttocks.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

When did we start signing our names to contracts? While the practice of signing one's name to a document does go way back, Slate recently revealed that it was also common to use wax seals to indicate authenticity between the 6th and 17th centuries.

Another more casual way to seal an agreement was cutting off a lock of one's hair and giving it to the other party. During the 13th century, agreements were sometimes marked with a slap, or some other traumatic act. The theory was that both parties would remember not only the injury but the accord that was reached on its infliction.

So spankings were legally valid and recognized as memory improvement aids.

Monday, May 9, 2011

From When the Master Speaks by Josephine Scott. Clarisse has done well in the city to which she fled, and lives in a large house with a male companion. Let's see what she has to tell Sophie this time:

Three nights ago Alfred entertained a whole crowd of people I had not seen before. These were men unlike those I had come across, these were men with hard faces and hard minds, for their talk was coarse when only I was present, and their tongues loosened with drink.

I made to leave on two occasions: each time Alfred detained me at the door, a gentle hand on my arm, a whisper of his spirit scented breath in my ear.

"Please stay, it is for my future" and each time I turned back from he door and went back to my place, on a footstool at Alfred's feet, for all the world as if I were his slave...

After everyone had drunk heavily of the mead and ale decanters, so he called for quiet among the babble of voices and beckoned to me to stand. I did, and breathed in the heavy cigar smoke and body odour of the men, for they were sweating in the warm evening, and had drunk and eaten well.

"My Clarisse here has a story to tell you. Clarisse, dear, tell these gentlemen of the thrashing your father and the elders gave you."

A coldness began to squeeze around my heart, for I began to have an inkling of why I had been detained, why Dominica had been sent away, why Cook was ordered to stay in her quarters and only I summoned to the evening of men.

...I stood up, and took my skirts in one hand, swaying slightly as I turned round and round, to face them all.

And saw their faces go red and their breath come hard and the hands squeeze tight around the tankards. I raised my skirts very slightly higher and saw the eyes, saw them turn downwards, saw them focus in on the feet and ankles...and then raised a little higher and they caught a glimpse of calf and white stockings.

And oh, Sophie, I knew what was to come and I went warm inside, as warm as the toast on the end of a fork held before a blazing fire. Alfred stood up and without a word fetched the bench from the hall where it normally stayed to hold Alfred's boots. It was clean, and I knew this had been long planned in Alfred's mind...

Without him asking I laid down over the bench and let one of the visitors, one of the esteemed guests, remove my clothes. And I let another tie my wrists and ankles to the bench legs with thin strips of leather that gave slightly and I could have escaped had I wanted to, but he was not to know that, for the look of satisfaction he gave me when he stood back told me so.

Alfred produced a leather belt, one I had seen him wear in the past, and which I knew then to be soft and flexible and I closed my eyes tight as the first man approached me.

I thought Cornelius was a hard man, Sophie, but these men were hard. These men knew how to use a belt with maximum strength and maximum pain and every single one burned me through and I could not help but shout and scream and that excited them more. With harsh words and exhortations to "make her sing louder" each man gave me ten strokes, and would have done more has Alfred permitted it.

Sophie, my dear sister, there were eight of them.

How I cried afterwards, when the belt stung so much and hurt so much and my hips felt on fire where they had lashed me and drawn blood with the tip and I felt crushed against the hardness of the bench and it was like Papa's thrashing all over again. Then they drew lots to see who would have me and the biggest man among them whooped with delight when he had the result of the draw.

I was untied and again without being told took the man by the hand and led him into the dining room which was empty and quiet and where no eyes could watch us.

And there I disrobed for him while he watched and I took him into my body with all the lust I had which was plenty after such a thrashing which left my body singing with emotion.

Sixofthebest: "Hermione, as I look at that voluptuous bottom of yours. You are the only beautiful filly, that I wish to take your knickers down, and spank that exotic, erotic, naked rear end with pleasure."

Prefectdt: "Well being a famous railway engineer is going to come in handy, when it comes to taking off that corset for her whipping."

Alan: How am I going to explain to her that the cushion is making her ass look Big?

Bree512: The calm before the storm.

Plotting the perfect spanking.

Top: Making me smile is worth a thousand spanks.
Bottom: A thousand?!! When did we ever discuss that it would be a thousand? (squirm)

My father said I would have days like this.

Shall I tell her now or tell her later.

I wish he would stop site-seeing already and just spank me.

A penny for your thoughts. I didn't just say that out loud did I?

The dress is just going to have to come off. I see not other recourse.

I will have to talk to father about changing the style of the new line of dresses for the fall line.